


she is half of my soul, as the poets say

by lostariels



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Banter, Coffee Shops, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels
Summary: When Kara's interrupted by a stranger in a bookstore, she finds herself swept up in witty conversation over coffee as they debate reading habits, completely enraptured by the beautiful woman who spouts poetry, is brazenly confident and just a little bit cocky.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triangleshape19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triangleshape19/gifts).



> this is for q. thanks for the idea and your unending support

“Oh, _God_ no, don’t pick _that_ one.”

Kara glanced up at the woman standing a few feet away from her, dark hair pulled away from her face in a severe bun as she plucked a thin book from the shelf. It didn’t seem like she was talking to her, and Kara continued to pull _Milk & Honey _ from the shelf. Book in hand, she glanced around, before looking back at the woman, who had turned to look at her with hard green eyes.

She was beautiful, and Kara found it alarming, quickly turning back to the shelf in front of her as she tried to mask her embarrassment at being caught staring. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the woman sidle up beside her, standing so close that if they moved even an inch closer, they would've jostled the other’s elbow.

Peeking sideways, Kara watched the stranger run a slender finger along the spines of poetry books, before pausing and making a small sound of triumph, pulling a book from the shelf and turning her body to face Kara. She held the book out in the small space separating them, looking up at her with a surprising softness to her face. Kara realised she _had_ been talking to her.

“Honestly, you’re much better off with something else,” the woman said, “I’d hardly call someone who strings three words together a poet.”

Eyebrows rising slightly in surprise, Kara glanced down at the dark cover of the book and flipped through a few pages, before glancing back up. A shy smile flit across her face and she reached up to brush stray hairs out of her face before adjusting her glasses.

“What would you call them then?”

Tilting her head to the side, the woman smiled, her brow creasing as her eyes narrowed, amusement etched into the lines radiating from the corners of them. They were a beautiful colour and Kara loved them instantly, biting back the urge to say so.

“Someone with stray thoughts,” the woman said, her words measured and tone clipped, letting out a derisive snort of laughter. “If you’re after female poets, Nikita Gill is one of the best I’ve come across.”

Waving the book she held up between them, she raised her eyebrows suggestively, and Kara quickly placed _Milk & Honey _ back on the shelf, before slowly taking the book from the woman. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have taken advice from a stranger on anything, even books, but she was so caught off guard that she was intrigued. Kara wasn’t the sort of person people who a woman that looked like that would approach.

  


She didn’t mean her _looks_ , although Kara was definitely struck by them, but the fact that her handbag was Hermes, her perfume just _smelled_ expensive, and Kara would know a pair of Louboutin’s anywhere. You couldn’t work for a fashion magazine without being able to identify quality on sight, and wealth oozed from this woman, from head to toe. Even her accent was posh - vaguely British and speaking of old money.

“I wasn’t looking for female poets in specific,” Kara murmured, shoulders rolling in a small shrug as she skimmed through the pages, breathing in the smell of the paper as the pages fanned out.

“Oh, well Rilke then.”

Choking on a small laugh, Kara cocked her head to the side and glanced at the woman with bewilderment. “You’re quite demanding for someone I just met.”

Lips curling in a slow smile, the woman arched a perfect brow, “I take it very seriously when I see people making horrible poetry choices. I just _have_ to step in and stop them making a mistake.”

“So you’re an expert then, huh?”

Pursing her lips slightly, the woman shrugged half-heartedly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “A self-professed one, at any rate.”

“Hm.”

“Really though, Rilke is one of the less talked about great poets. He’s very lyrical in his prose. It comes across better in German, but there are some good translations.”

Eyebrows rising, Kara gave her a shrewd look. “Oh, so you know German too?”

“Passibly.”

“Hm.”

“You sound very sceptical.”

Quietly laughing, Kara couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she gave the woman a playful look. “Sceptical? Really? I can’t imagine why I would ever be sceptical of a stranger in a bookstore telling me they know German.”

Pressing a hand to her chest, the woman’s brow furrowed as she gave Kara a mock wounded look. “Would I, a stranger in a bookstore, ever lie to a fellow poetry lover?”

“Lover?” Kara shot back, her smile growing as her blue eyes sparkled and her stomach fluttered nervously as she found herself enjoying their quick conversation. “You’re awfully critical of the genre for someone who _loves_ poetry.”

“Ah, well, I happen to be a lover of _great_ poetry. That’s the difference between you and I.”

Biting her bottom lip to fight back a laugh, Kara gave her a wide-eyed look of unabashed surprise and incredulity. She didn’t even know this woman, yet their playful banter tugged at Kara’s stubborn side, urging her to keep going as a warmth bloomed in her chest. Her body thrummed with adrenaline as she gripped _Your Soul Is A River_ in her hand, and she found that she wanted to stay trapped in the moment for a while longer yet. 

“You’re pretty presumptuous for someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“It’s presumptuous of _you_ to think I’d give my name out to someone _I_ don’t even know.”

“Maybe I’m just a presumptuous person.”

She watched as the brunette’s eyes roamed over her, giving her a once over, feeling herself flush under the scrutiny of her slow, meandering gaze. Kara was wishing she was wearing something dressier than her old favourite plaid shirt, that she’d put in her contacts that morning instead of shoving her glasses onto her tired face, already late for work. Feeling flustered, she hugged the book to her chest and ducked her head down, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t think you are,” the woman said, her voice slow and warm, and full of triumph as she continued, “Kara.”

Head shooting up, Kara stared at her with wide eyes filled with alarm as panic shot through her. Without a shadow of a doubt, Kara knew she’d never met this woman before. Her face wasn’t one she would’ve been likely to forget, or a previous encounter if it had been anywhere near as surprising as this one. Letting out a nervous laugh, she gave the woman a wary look as her stomach clenched.

Cocking her head to the side, the woman stared at her for a moment, before slowly reaching out for her and lifting a rectangle of plastic hanging at the end of a lanyard. “You’re wearing your work ID. It has your name on it.”

Kara’s relief was visible as it washed over her, the tension she didn’t even know had made her muscles go taut bleeding out of her as her shoulders dropped and she gave the other a sheepish smile. Pink-cheeked and apologetic, she rubbed at the back of her neck with her free hand, handbag looped over her arm, and she ducked her head down again.

“Sorry, it’s just … reporter,” Kara explained, waving a hand towards herself. “Not everyone likes my articles.”

“Interesting. Well, I don’t have a vendetta against you,” the woman said with a wry smile, “unless you _insist_ on buying Milk and Honey.”

“And if I do?”

A languid shrug rolled the woman’s shoulder as she raised a hand in a helpless gesture, “I might have to mail an obscene amount of _good_ poetry books to …” 

She trailed off, reaching out for Kara’s lanyard again, while the blonde stood rooted to the spot. Peering down at it with narrowed eyes, while Kara pressed her lips together, feeling self-conscious as the woman studied the photo of her plastered onto it, the woman took in the information and then let it go, before meeting Kara’s eyes.

“CatCo, huh?”

Kara shrugged nonchalantly, giving the woman a lopsided smile, and watched as she smiled back, extending a slender, pale hand, her green eyes sparkling with warm amusement.

“I’m Lena.”

Juggling her handbag and the book she still clutched to her chest, Kara hurriedly reached out to shake the proffered hand, praying that her hand wasn’t clammy against Lena’s cool skin. They clasped hands and Kara felt her stomach flutter and all thoughts leave her mind as she stared at the woman, who stood eye to eye with her due to her heels and brazenly met her gaze with no nervousness or self-consciousness.

“I’m Kara,” she blurted out, still gripping the woman’s hand, feeling the thin fingers warm in her hand.

“I did notice,” Lena replied, a small smile playing on her lips as she raised an eyebrow ever so slightly.

Letting out a nervous laugh, Kara dropped her hand and felt her cheeks warm, giving Lena a sheepish look as she shrugged helplessly, “right, you did.”

“So … are you going to take my advice? Considering the fact that we’re not strangers anymore, and I _definitely_ wouldn’t lie to someone I know about good poetry.”

“Ah, well,” Kara mumbled, trying to think of something witty or funny to respond with and finding herself flustered, “that depends.”

Eyebrows rising, Lena gave her a look of mild surprise. “Oh?”

“We’re going to need to have a _much_ longer conversation about who you consider great poets before I agree to take your advice,” Kara said.

Pursing her lips slightly, Lena gave her an appraising look, before giving her a suggestive look as the ghost of a smile played on her lips. “I suppose it’s a good thing there’s a coffee shop upstairs then.”

Blinking in surprise, Kara opened and closed her mouth a few times, taken aback by the obvious invitation that had come from her playful reply, but found herself more eager than she thought to sit down with a cup of coffee and debate with this stranger that managed to bring out a bolder side of herself that Kara so rarely showed. There was a certain sense of boldness that came from her line of work, with brazen questions that put unwilling targets on the spot, but when it came to flirting, Kara too often found herself a fumbling mess of nerves. 

With Lena’s unreserved boldness, Kara had managed to stumble along so far, the words rolling off her tongue with a certain coyness that caught her off guard but seemed to delight the other woman, who looked like she was relishing their quick conversation. 

Reaching out, Lena gently touched Kara’s arm, taking the blonde by silent surprise. “Just one second.”

Nodding, Kara stood in the narrow space between the shelves, book in hand and the comforting smell of dust, books and wood washing over her as the yellow lights of the bookshop kept the darkness at bay outside as it pressed up against the windows. It was getting late and she had an article to finish writing, but Kara suddenly found herself having all the time in the world. 

Patiently waiting, she watched Lena skim the spines of the books crowding the shelves, crouching slightly as she made her way further down the shelves. The look of concentration on her face brightened and she pulled a book from the shelf, holding in low at her side before Kara could catch a glimpse of the title or cover. With a small smile, Lena turned and walked through the rows, past a shelf of the classics, around a corner hosting a stack of Greek epics, and past a row of romance novels, with Kara close at her heels.

They mounted the stairs leading up to the second floor of the bookstore, the smell of coffee overpowering the paper and dust smell downstairs. It was cosy and intimate in the confines of the second-story balcony, and Kara looked over the metal railing enclosing a mix of tables and chairs, looking down onto the heads of customers below as they browsed the stacks. 

Warm light pooled on the scarred tabletops and Kara asked Lena for her coffee order, watching her hesitate, before surrendering without argument. A flat white. Kara smiled and nodded, watching as Lena turned towards the selection of tables, a smattering of them occupied at that hour, and elegantly wove her way through the narrow spaces between them. Kara joined the back of the queue.

Turning the book over in her hands, Kara eyed it with interest and found that despite her playful scepticism, she trusted Lena’s opinion on the matter. After all, it wasn’t often she’d been cautioned away from a book in a bookstore. And never by a stranger. She’d secretly already made up her mind about buying the book.

After placing their order, Kara turned and found Lena sitting in an old wingback armchair, legs crossed and hands delicately splayed on the arms of the cracked leather. Sitting just outside the halo of light cast by the nearest naked bulb, strange shadows were cast over Lena’s face, gathering in the deep hollows beneath her prominent cheekbones. Regal and beautiful, she sat staring up at a painting of Shakespeare hanging from the wall above the small round table, and Kara found herself nervous as she approached.

Yet even as her shadow fell across the table, Lena was turning to give her a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as the aloof look on her face softened. Returning the smile with her own somewhat crooked one, Kara slipped into the small gap between table and armchair and settled down onto the soft padded seat. Setting her handbag down on the floor, she placed the poetry book down on the table and ran her clammy palms over the thighs of her jeans.

Lena shed her plum coloured coat to reveal a crimson cashmere sweater, a few shades darker than her lipstick and in stark contrast to her alabaster skin, and Kara’s mouth went dry as she looked at her, trying not to stare but finding herself enraptured. 

It had been a grey day, and the night was dark and cold, but Kara felt snug in the coffee shop, staring at the rain-splattered windows looking out onto the street as hushed conversation and the sound milk being frothed blended into the background. There was a lethargic air around the quiet bookstore, people ambling between the rows below and people slowly drinking coffee in amber light as if they were caught up in a pocket of space where time had ceased to exist. It was comforting, and Kara shed her navy coat and rolled her shirtsleeves up under Lena’s scrutinising eyes.

Picking up the book she’d brought with her, Lena set it purposefully in front of her and opened the cover, running her hand along the spine as she did so, before flipping towards the middle of the book and firmly opening it so that it was flat against the wood.

“What’re you doing?!” Kara softly exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth open in horror as she cradled her face in her long hands.

Lena’s forehead creased as she glanced up with a look of surprise on her face, fingers splayed across the pages as she held the book open, the pressure keeping the cover flat on the table. Reaching for her coffee cup with her right hand, she gave Kara a questioning look.

“What?”

“You can’t just open a book like that!”

Letting out a snort of laughter, the anxious look on Lena’s face creased into amusement as she cracked a smile of perfect white teeth. Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of her coffee before placing it back down with care and rotating it slightly so that the handle was perfectly situated for her to pick it back up. The precision of her movements caught Kara by surprise. It seemed like everything she did was calculated, from the way her lipstick was applied and refused to smudge even the slightest even when drinking coffee, to the way she flipped further back through the book and firmly flattened the pages and cracked the spine of the book while Kara made a wordless cry in protest.

“I felt that in _my_ spine,” Kara spluttered, watching as Lena cracked the book until it lay almost flat against the table.

Kara made the safe assumption that before Lena had even made it through the book once, it would be limp and worn out, the title along the spine cracked and creased. She winced just thinking about it.

“Oh, come on, books are supposed to be loved,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand dismissively.

_“Loved?_ That’s practically torture. You’re going to crack the glue and make all the pages fall out! I don’t know about _love.”_

“I’ll just buy another one,” Lena shrugged. “You can never have too many books.”

Opening her mouth to argue, Kara fell silent, unable to argue with that statement, and Lena quietly chuckled as she took another sip of coffee. Giving her a dour look, Kara sipped her own and glanced down at the poetry book set on the edge of the table. Picking it up, she gently flipped through the pages, stopping at a random one, carefully prying the pages apart as she squinted down at the printed words.

Lena snorted and pressed her lips together as she gave Kara a doe-eyed look of innocence when the blonde looked up with an expectant look on her face. Fighting back a smile, Kara raised her pale eyebrows.

“What is it?”

“You know the book won’t bite if you, you know, _open_ it.”

Scoffing, Kara playfully scowled as her cheeks turned pink. “I like to _preserve_ mine, thank you very much.”

Yet even as she spoke, she eased the pages further apart, light spilling across the pages as her eyes skimmed the page and she drank in the words with open interest.

_What a perfect collision of star it was_

_that came together at just the right moment_

_at just the right time,_

_to build the incredible thing that is you_

“Thoughts?”

Kara nodded appreciatively, reaching for her latte and taking a sip. “Well I can hardly base the whole book on just _one_ poem, can I?”

“Of course not,” Lena diplomatically replied.

Still, Kara slipped a pencil from the pocket of her plaid shirt, the point sharpened, and carefully held the pages open as she hunched over and underlined a few lines. She was going to buy it anyway, and she liked to write little notes or thoughts, or even underline, in pencil so she could reflect on things when she read them again. It couldn’t hurt to get a headstart now.

Setting the pencil down, she picked the book up in gentle hands and met Lena’s pointed stare. 

“It’s fine to _write_ in books, but _opening_ them is where you draw the line?”

Flushing, Kara bristled slightly. “Writing in them in _pencil_ _doesn’t_ ruin them.”

“Oo, we’re getting into a sensitive area now.”

Lena laughed, her shoulders shaking as she watched Kara roll her eyes, trying to fight back a smile. Narrowing her eyes slightly, Kara jerked her chin towards Lena, a wary look on her face as she closed her book and cupped her chin in her hand, elbow on the table.

“What book did you get anyway?”

“The Book of Images. Rilke.”

Cocking her head to the side, shifting her hand from her chin to her cheek, Kara looked at her with curious blue eyes. “Have you read it before.”

“Mhm.”

Choking on a sound of surprise, Kara gave her an aghast look. “You just _ruined_ a book you’re not even buying?”

“I _am_ buying it,” Lena laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Kara grimaced slightly, “why? Did your other one’s spine fall apart from such horrible reading habits?”

Shrugging absentmindedly, Lena’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

They were silent for a few moments, Lena slowly stirring her coffee and Kara watching her as her body relaxed into her chair. It had been a long day, and longer still as she sat there with Lena, enjoying her company far too much to even consider leaving yet, but she found the heaviness of her limbs and the stinging behind her eyes pleasant in the bookstore. It was peaceful and she felt like she could stay there all night.

“Read me something,” Kara eventually murmured, breaking the silence.

One corner of her mouth curving up into a sardonic smile, Lena quirked an eyebrow up as her eyes shone intensely. “In German or …”

“I mean, I’d love to have _some_ concrete proof you’re not lying to me, seeing as I’m still on the fence about your taste in poets, but I think I’d like to understand the poem.”

“You’re not one of those _‘poetry speaks to the soul’_ sorts then?” Lena snorted, her words taking on a mocking tone as she made light of it. “No offence if you _are.”_

A laugh fell easily from Kara’s lips and there was a lightness inside as she smiled at Lena with bewilderment, wondering how she’d even come across her. She was strange and witty and beautiful and it seemed like it _had_ to be more than dumb luck or pure chance for her to have interrupted Kara with her scornful criticism of poetry. 

“Oh no, you _are,”_ Lena quietly crowed as Kara silently stared at her, a look of almost glee lighting up her face as she laughed.

“No!” Kara objected, laughing as she did, “I’m not. Really. I mean, I’m sure it sounds lovely, but it’s … nonsense. My soul only knows English. And passible Spanish. So … English please.”

Fixing her with her steady gaze for a few moments, Lena held her book open in front of her, slender fingers cupping the spine and cover as she used her thumb as a bookmark. 

_“Ja.”_

Her eyes sparkled with mirth as Kara found herself laughing at the simplest of German words so purposefully declared, as if proving something, and Lena’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter as she joined in with her. It felt good to laugh. To laugh at simple things over good coffee, trying to be quiet so they didn’t disturb the other shoppers, and Kara felt her stomach ache slightly as she covered her mouth with her hand, lips pressed together and a stern look in her eyes.

Slowly, Lena flipped through the pages, a solemn bow to her head, even though Kara could see her biting her lip to keep herself from smiling, unsuccessfully, she might add as she saw the upturn of the corners of her mouth. As she fanned through the book, stray strands of hair stirred in the breeze and her teeth worried at her red lips as her eyes skimmed the page.

Eventually, she stopped, held the book in a slant of yellow light and leant across the table towards Kara. It felt intimate, close and personal, and Kara sub-consciously found herself leaning closer, cheek still cradled in her hand, and her eyes trained solely on Lena’s face.

_“Like one who has traveled distant oceans_

_am I among those who are forever at home._

_The crowded days are spread across their tables,_

_but to me the far-off holds more life._

_Behind my face stretches a world_

_no more lived in, perhaps, than the moon._

_But the others leave no feeling alone_

_and all their words are inhabited._

_The things I brought back with me_

_seem strange here and out of place._

_In their own land they moved like animals,_

_but here they hold their breath in shame.”_

Enraptured, Kara watched her lips move, listening to the quiet way the words rolled off her tongue, the lilting way she pronounced them, wrapping herself around the vowels as Lena got lost in the gentle rhythm of the poem. Kara didn’t want her to stop. As Lena came to the end, she told her as much, voice soft, eyes tender and her heart fast in her chest.

“Keep going,” Kara murmured.

Lena didn’t even say anything else, just fixed Kara with her piercing stare, before her eyes softened at whatever she read on her face and she kept going. Softly clearing her throat, Lena shifted in her seat and leant further forward, voice dropping, fingers carefully turning the pages with a quiet, dry rustle.

_“Again and again, however, we know the language of love,_

_and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and_

_the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their_

_end: again and again the two of us go out under the_

_ancient trees, make our bed again and again between_

_the flowers, face to face with the skies.”_

Flipping the book over, Lena set it down with the pages against the wood, the spine arching up as the cover splayed out, and Kara pursed her lips slightly at the sight of it, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Taking the receipt from their coffee order, she reached across for Lena’s book, picked it up and slipped the thin piece of paper between the pages, snapping it closed and setting it back down with a pointed look. 

The pages fanned open though, the spine already cracked, and she shuddered and let out a wistful sigh while Lena laughed. Reaching for her cup of coffee, Lena made a show of setting the heavy mug down on top of the cover, flattening the pages back together and no doubt leaving a large ring stain on the cover. Kara bit back a groan and shook her head as she gave Lena an exasperated look.

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you regularly use cups to weigh down your books.”

With a nonchalant shrug and an offhand gesture, Lena smiled, “not with the first editions.”

“God, I’m actually terrified to see your book collection. I feel like they need rescuing.”

“You _write_ in yours! That’s like … the _worst._ That’s the biggest wrong of all.”

“Hey,” Kara objected, giving her a wounded look, “it’s nice when you get a book and someone’s written something inside it for you, or they’ve left notes in the margins. It’s like looking into their mind while they were reading it.”

“I don’t care much for other people’s opinions.”

“Oh, so you _don’t_ want to know if I liked the poems?” Kara challenged.

Raising her eyebrows, Lena gave her a knowing look, “well considering the fact that you made me read _two_ , I think you liked them. A lot.”

Pressing her lips into a flat line, Kara closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to smile. She opened them again to find Lena looked at her with a dimpled cheek and a spark in her eyes, and Kara couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.

“Well, maybe I was just trying to get a good feel for his work.”

“So you hated it?”

“No, I-”

At the slow smile that spread across Lena’s face, Kara felt her cheeks flush and her stomach clench, and started to get flustered again. Running a hand through her hair, she fiddled with her glasses and then leant back in the old armchair, tapping her fingers on the cracked leather as she smiled softly to herself, eyes trained on the book in front of her.

“Fine. I liked them.”

As Lena let out a crow of triumph, face lighting up with satisfaction, Kara held up a finger and gave her a playful look.

_“But_ you have to tell me who else you like, just so I know if this is a one-off chance.”

“It’s not,” Lena replied, a cocky smile on her lips as she quirked an eyebrow. “Mary Oliver?”

Kara shook her head as her brow creased slightly. That wasn’t a poet that she’d ever heard of, not that she considered herself an expert or well read within the genre. Lena had picked up her coffee cup, pages of the book springing apart, and hummed against the rim as she took a sip, her eyes bright with passion, before she set the cup back down, handle angled out to the side again.

“She’s brilliant. Her imagery is very similar to Rilke.”

Nodding, Kara reached into her handbag and pulled out her notepad she reserved for notes while on the job, plucking her pencil off the table, flipping through the pages and hurriedly scribbling the name down on a new one. She glanced up with an expectant look in her wide blue eyes, a look of innocence and open interest that made Lena smile as she sat there, regal and confident.

“You’re not going to just write it down inside the book?” Lena said with a sarcastic smile.

Softly sighing, Kara gave her an exasperated look, and Lena met her level stare with her own until Kara felt thrown off balance and a bit frazzled and the intensity of her gaze. Pencil clattering to the table, Kara set her notepad down and picked up her coffee, taking a big gulp and tucking her hair behind her ears, before she breathed in slowly and gave Lena a nervous smile.

“Who else?”

“Gregory Orr,” Lena shrugged, a thoughtful look crossing her face as she tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, head tilted to the side and chin jerked up slightly as she paused for a moment. “Emily Dickinson, of course. Rumi - although he might be way too old, even if you like the classics. Walt Whitman might be a bit generic, but still, he merits being on the list. Khalil Gibran. I’m not much for the Romantics, or Byron. That might just be my cynicism though. Elizabeth Bishop is quite enjoyable.”

Scribbling it all down quickly as Lena rambled on, Kara nodded absentmindedly as she wrote, flipping the page as her sprawling handwriting quickly filled it, and Lena watched her closely, unbeknownst to her, and almost in a similar manner to the way that she had watched Lena before as she’d read the poems. 

When she was finished, Kara straightened up and gave Lena a sheepish smile as she tucked her pencil back in her pocket and closed the notepad. “Sorry, I’m only just getting into poetry. My editor said it might help with the prose in my articles.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Lena faintly smiled, “a good way to learn, I suppose.”

Draining the dregs of her coffee, Kara eyed her over the rim of her cup, and found herself shy and quiet all of a sudden as Lena lounged there comfortably, glancing around the room as the hour grew later and people lingered about with no intention of leaving by the looks of things. Setting her empty cup back down, Kara shifted in her seat and Lena turned back to her with raised eyebrows and an amused look on her face.

“So, how did I do?”

“Well, I’ve never heard of half of them, so I’m not sure yet,” Kara hedged, “so far I’ve been making my way through the greats. Maya Angelou, E. E. Cummings, Neruda, Yeats. I’ve read a bit of Dickinson and Whitman though, so I’ll have to check out so more if they’re _that_ good.”

“Trust me.”

Cocking her head to the side, she gave Lena an appraising look and found herself smiling slightly, “I think I might.”

Surprise flickered every so slightly in Lena’s eyes, and her expression softened as she straightened up, her smile more tender than any she’d given Kara so far that evening. Reaching for her book, she steadily started flipping through them, dog-earing pages seemingly at random while Kara groaned quietly and Lena smiled widely at her obvious distress at the way she was treating the pages.

“You know that’s what bookmarks are for.”

“Am I supposed to use twenty?”

“Might I suggest stickers?”

“They might fall out.”

Letting out a withering sigh, Kara gave her a bemused look and watched as Lena meticulously dog-eared another page with care, creasing the flawless page with the pad of her thumb, and then closing the book. She glanced up at Kara and hesitated for a moment, the one moment of uncertainty and caution she’d exhibited all evening that they’d spent together, and she gently bit her bottom lip as she met her gaze.

“Could I please borrow your pencil?”

Eyebrows rising, Kara plucked it from her pocket and held it just out of Lena’s reach with a pointed look on her face. “Are you breaking your rule?”

“It _pains_ me to do it,” Lena sighed, shaking her head as she gave Kara a solemn look, “but it’s necessary.”

Quietly chuckling, Kara held it out and Lena’s cool fingers brushed hers for the briefest moment before she took the pencil and hunched over, slowly writing something inside the cover in her crisp handwriting. Shutting the cover, she handed the pencil back to Kara and then leant back.

“Shall we go?”

As much as she wanted to prolong the random encounter, Kara nodded, her shoulders already drooping with tiredness and hunger gnawing at her stomach as she put off dinner for coffee and conversation.

They both donned their coats and picked up their bags, and with a book each, they descended the stairs together, Kara a step behind Lena’s shoulder. Cold air washed in through the open door as a customer left, and Kara shivered slightly as she passed by, following Lena to the counter.

Lena purchased just the one book, and then Kara bought hers too, finding herself excited to read it, and hoping it was as good as the other woman claimed. Yet, she wasn’t _that_ eager to leave at just that moment, and it seemed like Lena wasn’t either, both of them dragging out the moments as they made their way to the door, hovering inside the warmth for just a moment longer before they stepped outside into the night.

Standing in the rectangle of light spilling out onto the glistening wet sidewalk, they face each other, bundled up in their coats and stamping their feet as they clutched their new purchases in hand. Kara slipped hers into her handbag, fussing around for a few moments while Lena waited, having no intention of leaving without a few last words.

As Kara met her gaze again, taking in the shadows that pooled in the hollows of her face and at the base of her throat, Lena abruptly held the book out, her eyes silvery in the night as they were leached of their colour, yet no less intense. Glancing down at the book, Kara frowned slightly in confusion.

“It’s for you,” Lena prompted, offering the book again.

Looking up in surprise, Kara slowly reached out and took it, cradling it gently in her hands as she turned it over, running a finger along the cracked spine and thumbing through the dog-eared pages. A warmth spread throughout her chest and she gave Lena a tender smile.

“Oh. Thank you, you didn’t have to-”

Lena waved her thanks aside and gave her a wry smile, “I couldn’t let you leave without a book of Rilke’s poems now, could I? I dog-eared my favourites. And I wrote my number in the front. Maybe you can give me a call and tell me what opinions you wrote down in the margins.”

Hesitating, Lena gave her a crooked smile and shrugged. “If not … well, at least you have at least one well-loved book in your collection.”

“Tortured,” Kara blurted out.

With a quiet snort of laughter, Lena rolled her eyes and gently shook her head. Laughing along with her, Kara opened the cover and glanced down at the digits written neatly inside, before slipping it into her bag and smiling at Lena with nervous anticipation.

“I’ll call you,” she murmured, sincerity colouring her words as she gave her a serious look.

Expression softening with relief, Lena smiled and nodded once, a quick dip of her chin, before she buried her hands in her pockets and took a slow step back, their meeting nearly at an end.

“Goodnight, Lena,” Kara quietly said, liking the way her name sounded in her mouth. 

_“Gute Nacht,”_ came the droll reply, accompanied by a wry smile and a quiet laugh, before Kara was left laughing quietly to herself as she watched the brunette walk off, swallowed up by the darkness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy belated birthday q!!

Kara was browsing the row of bookshelves in the dusty store, breathing in the smell of paper and leather, coffee from the small café upstairs and wood polish, gusts of cold air sweeping in through the door every time it opened. Each time, Kara would crane her neck to see who was walking in, her heart fluttering excitedly, expecting Lena to breeze in with her usual elegant brusqueness. She was late.

Two years had passed since they’d met in the poetry aisle, exchanging witty conversation and Kara leaving with a book Lena had bought for her, her phone number scrawled inside the cover, in breach of her usual book etiquette, although her disregard for creasing pages and bending the spines never ceased to make Kara cringe, even after all that time.

She’d called Lena afterwards, as she’d promised, and they’d met at the bookstore again. Lena had been sitting in a dark corner of the café, a coffee already ordered for Kara and a book primly placed on the table, the corners curling up and pages fanning up slightly from where she’d already thumbed through the book. Another recommendation lined up for Kara.

And thus had started a rapid relationship built on weekly meetings at the bookstore, browsing the shelves and picking out books for each other, swapping them over the scarred surface of coffee tables and sitting in silence as they flipped through them. It started with poetry books off Lena, all of the ones she’d recommended to Kara, pages already dog-eared. Kara gave her some of her favourites in return, plucking them off shelves throughout the low-lit store, while Lena picked her own from across the store.

Soon enough, Kara was reading the books scattered around Lena’s apartment with reckless abandonment, flipping through coffee-stained pages with ratty corners and spines held together by tape or shreds of glue. Some had pages falling out and shoved haphazardly back inside, others were immaculate, bound in soft leather and lined up neatly in an office of dark wood, all of them first editions that were clearly treasured. That was the most shocking of all, that there were books that Lena treated with care.

They went to the bookstore at least once a week, leaving with new books every time, Lena’s stack always bigger with the nonchalant way she scanned her credit card, always throwing in a couple of copies for Kara too, who limited herself to two on her reporter’s salary. Back at one of their apartments, they’d order in takeout and read at opposite ends of the sofa, legs tangled with the TV humming in the background. Once they were finished, they’d pass it onto the other, if it was worth it, and Kara would sigh at the corners folded in on pages Lena enjoyed, and Lena would smile at the faint pencil marks where Kara had underlined phrases that caught her attention.

It wasn’t long before Lena was waking up on Sunday mornings in Kara’s bed, the smell of bacon and coffee drifting towards her as she read one of the books neatly stacked on Kara’s bedside table, leaving them in disarray. Occasionally, she’d leave a coffee stain or crease the spine a little too much, and Kara would find a brand new copy gracing her bookshelf without a word, and smile to herself as she tidied up her apartment, finding Lena’s books in the mix and feeling her heart swell with warm happiness. She never imagined a surprise encounter in a bookstore could make her heart rush and change so much for the better, yet it had.

And now, a little over two years later, they were celebrating their second anniversary. In the bookshop of course. Kara arrived there first, heading straight for the store after leaving the office, taking the liberty of sitting upstairs for ten minutes to scrawl a few sentences for a new article into her notepad, before she made her way back downstairs to wind her way through the shelves. 

It was an agreed-upon decision that they’d buy each other books for special occasions. Whether it was because Kara felt embarrassed by the fact that she couldn’t dole out thousands on expensive gifts like it was spare change, or because she felt guilty if Lena ever spoilt her like that, or because there was nothing Lena could ever want for, it was always books. It was in the act of choosing the book and giving it to them, with signs of their reading habits, that made it special - not the price tag. In fact, Kara didn’t know how much Lena treasured each gift, running her fingers over the underlined words and smiling softly to herself as she felt a deeper connection to her girlfriend than she’d ever had with anyone else. Diamonds couldn’t compare to that.

She was running her fingers along the spines of a few classics, in sight of the door, when it opened with another gust of wind. Turning to look, an expectant look on her face as her hopes rose again, Kara’s face relaxed into a smile as she watched Lena finally step inside. Looking harried, cheeks pink from the cold, Lena unknotted the scarf around her neck and unbuttoned her coat, her eyes scanning the nearest shelves, before she spotted Kara.

“I’m late, I know, I know,” Lena sighed heavily, reaching out to cup her cheek in a cold hand, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s lips before she pulled back and gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I got held up.”

“No worries,” Kara said, reaching down to pick Lena’s hands up in her own, warming them as she gazed down at her, blue eyes creasing faintly at the corners. “Happy anniversary.”

Deflating with relief, Lena gave her a crooked smile, her eyes shining with love as she squeezed Kara’s hands. “Happy anniversary.”

“Busy day?”

With a wan smile, Lena freed a hand and waved it airily, “oh, it’s nothing. Now, are you ready?”

_ “Me?  _ I’ve got a headstart on you,” Kara laughed, eyebrows rising slightly with amusement. “Are  _ you _ ready?”

Giving her a sharp smile, Lena raised the hand still clamped between Kara’s and pressed a kiss on her knuckles before freeing herself. “I’m always one step ahead of you, my love. I’ll meet you upstairs in five minutes.”

_ “Five? _ It’s usually ten.”

“Ah, but you’ve had a head start, and I’d be doing myself a disservice if I gave you an extra five minutes to second guess which book is going to be the winner this time around. Although, not to be cocky, I think mine’s going to be better than yours.”

“You’re always cocky, and you  _ always _ think your choice is better than mine.”

With a derisive snort, Lena arched an eyebrow and gave her a droll smile, “well that’s because  _ I _ picked it and I have impeccable taste.”

“You bought me  _ Ulysses _ for Christmas. That has to be the  _ most _ rambling and digressive book in the existence of the universe!”

“You said you enjoyed it!” Lena protested, pouting slightly as her brow furrowed and she forlornly plucked a book that had caught her attention off a nearby shelf, glancing down at the cover before she put it back.

Rolling her eyes, Kara gave her a solemn look, pressing a hand to her chest, “I did! I promise. Joyce’s command of the English language is  _ good _ , I just- well, it was a little bit dense.”

“So you agree, I have good taste.”

Lena gave her a wry smile, teasing and almost smug as if she’d caught Kara and was going to make her admit it, and Kara couldn’t help but laugh, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I guess I’ll see in four minutes.”

_ “Four?” _ Lena spluttered, glancing down at her watch, “it hasn’t started yet!”

“But you’re already one step ahead.”

With a melodramatic sigh and a spark of determination in her eyes, Lena poked Kara in the ticklish spot on her ribs, squeezed past her and then disappeared around the corner, her voice drifting back over her shoulder as she warned Kara not to peek. With a quiet chuckle, Kara ducked around the opposite corner of the bookshelves and crouched down to pluck the copy she’d already decided on off the shelf.

The book was  _ The Art Of Racing In The Rain,  _ a recent favourite that Kara had stumbled upon and knew that Lena would enjoy. Sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, back against the shelves as they dug into her spine, she quickly scrawled the poem she’d decided on - an old one by Rilke that she knew Lena would love - and then flipped through it, eyes scanning the passages as she underlined phrases that caught her eye. 

“One minute!” Lena’s voice came floating down the aisle as she sped past, eyebrows rising as she gave Kara a roguish smile, “first one upstairs gets the last bite of pie!”

Spluttering in protest, Kara scrambled to her feet, book gripped tightly in her hand, bag banging against her legs, as she rushed down the aisle, footsteps loud on the wooden floor as Lena’s laughter came from the stairs. 

“That’s cheating!”

“What? You said you had a headstart!” Lena said, leaning over the bannister as she shrugged helplessly.

Other customers glanced at them at their loudness, and the staff smiled, used to their antics after years of their frequent visits and childish games, and Kara quickly rounded the end of the staircase and pounded up them with the light feeling of laughter in her chest. 

Reaching the top, she looked towards the counter, where Lena was already waiting in line to place their coffee orders, and chuckled quietly to herself at the smug kiss blown her way. Pouting as she wound her way through the tables, book cover pressed against her coat to hide the title, Kara smiled at Lena, cheeks still flushed with laughter.

“Chocolate pecan or pumpkin today?”

“Oo, tough call,” Kara hummed, deliberating for a moment as she propped her chin on Lena’s shoulder, hand on her waist, and stared at the pies on show in the display fridge. “Hm, let’s go chocolate pecan.”

Turning to kiss her cheek, Lena jerked her chin towards an empty table against the panelled wall, “as you wish. You go and sit.”

“Yes, boss.”

Making her way over to the table, Kara flopped down onto the armchair, the leather cracked and worn, a groove worn into the stuffing from so much use, and she set the book down with a pleased look on her face. Shedding her coat, she looked down at the dog on the front cover and then let her gaze wander around the room. 

The lighting with low, as per usual, and a small crowd of other customers were scattered throughout the small coffee shop on the second floor, sipping coffee as they read books borrowed from the shelves that they had no intention of buying. The faint chatter and smell of fresh coffee and paper was comforting and familiar, and Kara slumped slightly in her seat with weary contentedness. 

It had been a long day, and she was glad to unwind in the bookstore, thinking of the coffee on its way to warm her up and the excitement of giving Lena the book she’d picked. Despite their banter, she knew that Lena appreciated all of the books she’d picked, as did Kara, whether they enjoyed it themselves or not. They knew each other well enough to be able to pick ones they knew the other would like, but sometimes they gave each other ones that they knew they wouldn’t, just because it was like giving them a glimpse at their own thoughts, or there might’ve been some other elements to it they could appreciate instead. It was like discovering new pieces of each other each time.

“I got pumpkin too,” Lena announced as she all but threw herself into her seat, reclining in the easy manner of someone who had everything at their disposal, relaxed and unbothered, even if there was an undercurrent of tension that clung to her sometimes after a long day of work. 

“You spoil me too much.”

“I thought why not? It’s a special occasion.”

“Mm, two years,” Kara said, a faint, dreamy sigh falling from her lips as she gave Lena a starry-eyed look, full of adoration, before her expression turned more playful. “Two  _ long, long _ years.”

Scoffing, Lena’s lips twitched with a smile, eyes sparkling in the dim light, “it’s been torture, really. I mean, forcing you to read Ulysses, having to put up with  _ so many _ trips to the bookstore, waking up beside you every morning. I don’t know how we’ve survived it.”

“With difficulty,” Kara teased her, gently bumping Lena’s foot beneath the table.

A barista brought two cups of coffee over to their table, made a little hotter due to the fact that they were known to linger for a long while, usually ordering a second round when they got too wrapped up into conversation or lighthearted debates. Kara stirred a lump of brown sugar into her own and brightened up at the sight of two slices of pie heading towards their table.

Once they were settled in, bites stolen from both slices, coffee sipped and found to their liking, Kara straightened up in her seat, brimming with so much excitement that she could barely sit still.

“Right, book time!” she declared, her hands flat on the cover, which she’d turned face down so Lena couldn’t see the title. “Can I go first?”

“I thought you’d like to,” Lena said with a quiet laugh, gesturing for Kara to go ahead.

Picking it up in her hands, Kara cradled the book in front of her chest for a moment as she pressed her lips together in a flat line, giving Lena a scrutinising look as she tried to gauge what she was thinking. Then, with a flourish, Kara turned the book around so reveal the dog on the cover and the title written across it. With a smile, Kara held it across the table.

“Here we go!”

“The Art Of Racing In The Rain,” Lena mumbled aloud as she took the book and read off the cover, eyes quickly scanning over the front, before she turned it in her hands. “Sounds interesting.”

“I really liked it,” Kara beamed.

Lena’s eyes narrowed slightly as she turned it back over. “It’s a dog story?”

“Mhm.”

“I swear to God if the dog dies-”

Kara held her hands up in defence, “well I’m not going to spoil it for you, am I? It’s good; trust me.”

“Alright,” Lena said, although she gave Kara a suspicious look, “fine, I’ll trust you. But if the dog  _ does _ die, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“A  _ week?” _

“You didn’t speak to me for an entire  _ day _ when you finished A Little Life.”

Spluttering in protest, Kara’s brow furrowed into a stubborn look of vindication. “Well I never made you sleep on the  _ couch.” _

“Well you have no need to worry if the dog doesn’t die,” Lena said with a sly smile, peering up at Kara through her dark lashes.

Opening and closing her mouth, Kara gave her a sheepish look and shrugged helplessly. “Is it too late for me to change my choice?”

Hugging the book to her chest, Lena half-turned away from her with a mock look of outrage on her face, even as her lips twitched slightly at the corners with a hidden smile. “Absolutely. Besides, I already love it.”

“You’re just saying that so you can have the bed to yourself,” Kara said with amused accusation.

“You take up  _ all _ the room!  _ And _ the blankets. Good thing you’re like a furnace or I’d freeze.”

“I can’t help it,” Kara quietly whined, before letting out a laugh as she gave Lena a doe-eyed look of innocence. “Besides, I already inscribed your book so I’m not sure they’d let me slip it back on the shelves anyway. We’d have to find a new bookstore because they’d know it was me.”

With a snort of laughter, Lena quickly parted the book with deft hands, breaking the spine and smiling wider as Kara sighed pointedly. Meeting her eyes for a moment, Lena gave her a quick wink, before she flipped to the front of the book and flipped through the first few. There, on the page with the short forward, was Kara’s loopy writing written in pencil.

Pressing the book down flat on the table, a shaft of amber light falling across the page, Lena pinned it in place with one hand and then propped her elbow on the table and cupped her cheek as she read the poem that Kara had written for her.

_ Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you. _

_ Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you. _

_ And without feet I can make my way to you, _

_ without a mouth I can swear your name. _

_ Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you _

_ with my heart as with a hand. _

_ Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat. _

_ And if you consume my brain with fire, _

_ I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood. _

Lena’s expression softened as she reached the end of the poem, giving Kara a touched smile as she reached across the table, hand extended for her hand. Kara willingly slipped hers into Lena’s grip and gave her an anxious look, blue eyes wide and hopeful, cheeks rosy and full as they dimpled with a shy smile.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Lena quietly replied, “truly, I do. Thank you, darling.”

She rose halfway from her seat and met Kara over the small table, giving her a lingering kiss as she smiled into it, before caressing her cheek for a moment and sitting back down. Spending a few more moments fixated on her book, Lena finally set it aside, out of reach of any stray drips of coffee, trying to preserve it’s condition for a while longer, even though she’d already bent the spine in half, before she sat rigidly in her seat with a smile plastered on her face.

“Are you ready for yours now?”

Looking like a child on Christmas day, Kara shifted eagerly in her seat, eyes bright and expectant, waiting to find out which book Lena had picked for her, and nodded her head earnestly as she laced her fingers together on top of the table.

She watched Lena dig into her bag and carefully extract a clothbound book, cradling it with surprising tenderness and none of her usual brusque manhandling, before she hesitated for a moment. Gently biting her lower lip, she looked up at Kara with a wariness flickering in her eyes, before she held the book out.

“For you.”

Slowly taking the proffered book, Kara stared down at the plain front, the grey cloth rough beneath her fingers, and she realised it was a poetry book. Not one of the ones Lena usually recommended her, but a book of assorted ones, with no particular poet in mind, and Kara’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“Assorted works, huh? I distinctly remember you saying that you didn’t like assorted works because the prose and styles clashed when you read them.”

Giving her a vague, noncommittal shrug, Lena brushed her hair off her shoulders, “maybe I changed my mind.”

“You’re more stubborn that Alex, so I doubt that very much. Is it possible- God I can’t even believe I’m going to suggest this, but … is  _ the _ Lena Luthor actually, possibly, maybe …  _ wrong? _ Did you  _ like  _ a book of assorted poems? The scandal of it all.”

With a wispy sigh, Lena gave her a stern look, before her lips curled up into a wry smile. “No, that’s not it. I can assure you I’ve never been more sure of my decision than in giving you that book.”

With an appraising look, Kara hummed in a perplexed manner as she started to open the book, parting it near the middle, at one of the corners which had already been dog-eared by Lena. They would be her favourite poems.

“No, no!” Lena objected as Kara started to flip through the pages. Her eyes were wide and she looked almost offended by the motion, her cold hand resting against the back of Kara’s to stop her. “What, two years in and  _ now _ you decide to start actually bending the spines to open them? Good God, have I turned you into some book hating heathen? I feel like Victor Frankenstein; it’s like I’ve created a monster.”

Kara gave her a withering look at her amused tirade, finding her unusually chatty that evening, and somewhat stiff. She’d been working long hours at the office lately, barely seeing Kara, and although she didn’t fret that Lena was avoiding her, there was an undercurrent of worry that her girlfriend wasn’t looking after herself. Kara wondered what strenuous meeting had managed to put Lena on edge that day.

”You have to start at the  _ beginning,” _ Lena demanded, a stubborn jut to her jaw as her brow furrowed. “I dog-eared them in order, I’ll have you know.”

“You’re awfully bossy tonight,” Kara said, giving her a reproving look as she settled back in her chair, moving to set the book down flat on the scarred table.

Gold light slanted across Lena’s face, shadows pooling in her cheeks and beneath her eyes, giving her a haughty look as she scoffed, making a show of slumping back in the wingback armchair, one arm slung over the back and her shoulder leaning against the wall. It looked forced, like Lena was trying her best  _ not _ to look tense and failing miserably.

Kara watched her for a moment, taking in the careless air about her, the way her hair spilt around her shoulders, slightly dishevelled from the walk to the bookstore, the way her fingers drummed on the worn leather of the armchair. With an exasperated look, Kara thumbed her way to the first dog-eared corner, giving Lena a pursed-lipped look of feigned offence at the creased page as she lifted the folded edge and smoothed it out.

Gingerly holding the book open, Kara stared down at the page and started reading the poem. She’d barely made it through the first stanza before she spotted a circled word and glanced up, arching an eyebrow as she cocked her head to the side.

“Writing in books now, are we? Now who’s Victor Frankenstein?”

Rolling her eyes, Lena’s mouth twitched at the corners with the hint of a smile, and she gestured helplessly with a slender hand. “I thought it’d be more fun this way. Just a momentary lapse in my strict book care rules.”

“Oh yes, because you’re  _ so _ strict with your reading habits.”

“I’ll have you know that this is the  _ second  _ time that I’ve ever written in a book, and both of them have been for your benefit. Now, hurry up, you’re spoiling my gift.”

Smiling, Kara glanced back down at the word printed in black ink, circled with the faint line from a lead pencil. The word was  _ my. _ Just  _ my _ . She let her eyes travel further down the page, near the bottom, where a second word was printed.  _ Dearest. _

Narrowing her eyes, she glanced back up at Lena, who was watching her carefully, tracking her movements as Kara reached into her satchel and pulled out her notebook and plucked a pencil from where it held her hair up in a bun. A cascade of blonde hair, turned golden in the amber light of the room, tumbled around her shoulders, and she shook it out of her face as she bent her head in a studious manner and wrote both words down in her loopy writing.

_ My dearest. _

On and on it went, moving from dog-eared page to dog-eared page, reading the love poems and finding the circled words, adding them to the growing list. She hadn’t put them together as she went, each word stringing together to mean something that was beyond Kara’s comprehension, long-winded and purposefully misleading until she read back over what she had so far.

_ “My dearest love. How I wish I could express my feelings for you in words as lovely as the ones in these poems. Instead, I have to rely on the words of the greats to do it for me. Still, they cannot capture your beauty and kindness, and fail to describe every part of you that I cherish so dearly. I have never thought Rilke could fail me so, but even his words pale in light of my love for you. The only way I hope to make you see how I feel is to ask you to tie yourself to me in every way. To ask for your hand in-” _

Stomach lurching with surprise, Kara looked up at Lena with wide blue eyes, her heart all but stopping in her chest as it seized with shock. Lena, who had been agitated and distracted, and brimming with tension all night was suddenly sitting up straight, shoulders tense, jaw set and face pale with fright. 

“Turn to the next page, please,” she quietly commanded, throat bobbing as she clenched her hands into fists on top of the table.

Knowing what came next, heart rate picking up speed as nervous delight clenched her stomach, Kara fumbled with the book and turned to the last dog-eared page, about halfway through the book. And there, her eyes landed on a square cut out of the thick book, right in the centre, where a length of ribbon held a ring suspended in it, the diamond catching the light of the bookshop’s café and winking yellow. And there, one final word circled in the midst of a poem.

_ Marriage. _

Throat closing up with emotion, tears pricked at the back of Kara’s eyes as she looked up at Lena, who was looking at her with gentle awe, lips parted and a silent question in her eyes. Kara watched as she drew in a shaky breath, and felt hot tears spill down her cheeks, before the book fell limply onto the tabletop.

_ “Oh.” _

“Kara-”

She wiped at her cheeks as she looked back up at Lena, unabashed shock written on her face as she seemed to slump dazed in her seat. “You  _ cut a hole  _ in the book,” Kara faintly said, blinking back more tears.

Caught off-guard, Lena’s mouth closed before she could say anything else, and then she laughed, her brow furrowing with bewildered amusement. “I did.”

“And you put a  _ ring  _ in it.”

“Well … yes.”

“You want to  _ marry _ me?”

Choking on a quiet laugh, Lena gave her an incredulous look, before a wry smile curled her lips. Her eyes softened and she gave Kara a bright-eyed look, as if she was about to start crying. One of her hands extended further across the table, white fingers unfurling as she held her hand open, waiting for Kara to slip hers into her grasp.

Slowly, teary-eyed and slumped, Kara reached out and put her hand in Lena’s, feeling her fingers squeeze tightly around them. 

“I  _ am _ trying to propose, so yes, very much.”

“Yes,” Kara blurted out.

Eyebrows rising, Lena’s smile grew slightly bigger, her cheeks dimpling faintly as she cocked her head to the side. Her heart leapt in her chest and Kara could see the way she swallowed thickly, trying to keep her emotions under check. Yet still, Lena leant forward, tension bleeding out of her as she cradled Kara’s hand in both of hers, giving her a heartachingly tender look of disbelief.

“Really? Do you mean it?”

“I do,” Kara laughed, wiping at her cheeks with her free hand, before she sniffed and flashed a watery smile full of unbridled happiness, “I do, of  _ course _ I do. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Do you want me- should I get down on one knee?” Lena babbled as her eyes filled with tears, “I should do this properly with the- the ring. The ring! Can I have your book a moment, please?”

Kara picked the book back up and handed it to Lena, who rose from the armchair, hunching over the cluttered table as she fumbled with the ribbon she’d tied the ring to, so it wouldn’t rattle around inside the book as Kara handled it. It would’ve been too obvious otherwise. Freeing it, she held it in her palm and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks, before giving Kara a heart-aching smile full of so much happiness as she sank down to one knee.

Ring extended upwards, catching the light as Lena took Kara’s left hand in her own, she gave it a slight squeeze. “Kara, will-”

“Yes,” Kara quietly exclaimed, unable to contain herself.

Chuckling quietly, the sound thick with emotion, Lena shook her head as she gazed up at her. “Are you going to let me ask first?”

Sniffing, Kara tossed her hair back and gently cleared her throat. “Right, yes, okay. Go.”

“Will you marry me?”

Removing her hand from Lena’s grasp, Kara cupped the cheeks of the woman kneeling before her and kissed her. Once, twice, and a third time as tears slid down her cheeks again, before pulling back, still cupping Lena’s face in her hands. They were only a few inches apart, and Kara smiled softly.

“Yes. It’ll always be yes.”

The diamond ring slid home on her finger, and Lena kissed her again, before climbing to her feet and settling back down on the armchair to finish her coffee, her heart fluttering in her chest as adrenaline coursed through her body. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out another book and brusquely handed it to Kara.

“Like I said, I’ve never been more sure of my decision to give you that book, but … here’s your  _ real _ gift - not defaced in the name of love.”

With a quiet scoff of laughter, Kara hugged the book to her chest, eyes alight with laughter, and smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I love you.”

“Happy anniversary, darling.”


End file.
